


Words, Wide Night

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avenger Loki (Marvel), Bedtime Stories, F/M, Lullabies, Poetry, Protective Loki (Marvel), Reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23336134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: You get home after a long day and Loki reads you to sleep.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 13
Kudos: 282





	Words, Wide Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of (hopefully) many <1k word drabbles meant to flood you with fluffy comfort to help you get to sleep. It’s a new series/collection I’m trying to start. It’s likely that all of these will have the same basic setup and/or plot: Nighttime, possibly in bed. Things are weird and uncertain lately so I’m trying to help you get to sleep. The poem Loki reads at the end is Strawberries by Edwin Morgan (read aloud by Mr. Hiddleston himself [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GooJaG0CtaU&feature=youtu.be&t=332) ) The title is a refered to another poem: Words, Wide Night by Carol Ann Duffy. 
> 
> If there's a specific action, trope, or line of dialogue that you'd like to read in these lullabies, please don't be afraid to let me know (in a comment or on my Tumblr--I'm grufflepuff-writes-stuff.

It had been a long day. As one of the department heads of of Tony’s newest foundation, it was your job to secure corporate donations in order to help the people in the city who were most impacted by this latest global crisis. You made a lot of phone calls, schmoozed a lot of CEOs, and, today, had actually managed to finagle quite a few large contributions. It was extraordinarily satisfying work, but so draining. You pushed your door open with one hand while using the other to try to work some kinks out of your neck. 

You had your own little chunk of the Tower, graciously offered by Tony around the same time he asked you to take on your new role. You were still getting used to the size of your new space, which was easily several times larger than your old apartment. You dropped your bag just inside the door and went straight to the kitchen sink to fill a glass with water. Any other night, you might have checked your fridge or cupboard for a quick dinner, but tonight your exhaustion easily won out over your hunger.

When you got to your bedroom door, you stopped, a little uneasy. There was a light shining through the crack under the door. You were always careful to make sure all of your lights were turned off when you weren’t using them; there was no way you’d left one on this morning. Briefly, you considered calling out to FRIDAY, but decided against it. If someone was in there, you didn’t want to alert them to your presence too soon.

Bracing yourself, you pushed the door open. Sure enough, your bedside lamp had been turned on, and gentle light spilled across your bed, illuminating—Loki. He looked so...sweet, sitting propped against your headboard with a large book open across his lap. His hair was soft as it tumbled around his face in waves. You recognized that worn-in black Henley and, though he’d covered himself with your comforter, you suspected he was wearing the flannel pyjama pants you’d gotten him last Christmas. Your heart swelled in your chest. He marked his place on the page and then finally looked up at you, treating you to a brilliant smile.

“You’re home late,” he said in a low voice. You closed the door behind you and went over to your dresser to change into something more comfortable. 

“There’s a lot of scared people out there,” you replied. “It’s hard to feel like you’re really helping in only eight hours.” Keeping your back to Loki, you stripped out of your clothes and then replaced them with your most comfortable pyjamas. Why should Loki get to have all the fun? 

“They do say that not all heroes wear capes.” You could hear the smile in his voice. You weren’t a superhero like the Avengers, but you did try to remind yourself that you did a little bit of your own kind of good in the world. 

“No, only the really sexy ones.” You turned to give him the silliest come-hither look you could manage before climbing into bed with him. “The ones with raven hair and silver tongues and hearts of gold.”

He rolled his eyes, but you were pleased to note the faint blush that rose into his cheeks. You loved seeing him blush. From what little he’d shared about his life before Earth, he hadn’t often felt safe enough to blush, and it was an honor that he felt that way with you. You snuggled close to him and kissed his cheek, then pulled one of his arms around your shoulders. “Whatcha readin’?”

He turned his head to press a long kiss to your forehead before answering. “I found a collection of Midgardian poetry. I’ve been enthralled all night.”

“Mm. I love poetry.” You leaned closer so you could rest your head on his shoulder, and attempted to read the page sitting open in his lap. All too soon, your vision blurred. It was too late at night, and you’d spent too much time today staring at screens to be able to focus on the page. Instead, you turned to hide your face against his neck. He laughed and tightened his arm around you in a hug. He smelled clean, like the soap in your shower, but just beneath that you could smell _him_ : warm, spiced, almost musky. He smelled like home. Where your nose brushed against his throat, you could feel his pulse: steady, consistent, strong. You slipped one arm around his midsection so you could hold him as tightly as he held you. There was something about being with him like this, the two of you holding each other, that made it easy to forget the uncertainty and fear outside.

“Shall I read to you, then?” He sounded amused, but not teasing. You pictured the smile that he almost certainly wore: that soft, open smile that he reserved expressly for you and for moments like these. You loved it when he read to you. His voice was sweet and rich and dark, and always lent a certain kind of thrilling quality to whatever he read to you. You nodded quickly, never quite breaking contact with his skin. He laughed again and did his best to kiss your temple. You let your eyes slip closed as his voice began to rumble through his chest.

_“There were never strawberries like the ones we had like the ones we had that sultry afternoon, sitting on the step of the open french window, facing each other, your knees held in mine...”_


End file.
